Here
we are again,
In
that awkward “almost” moment
Where
we don’t know whether to smile or run away.
That
calm before the storm. That everything is silent, holding your breath,
balancing on the edge of a knife, moment.
Because
we haven’t talked in weeks.
And
I’ve fought it every day, like a cancer patient fighting a disease, and I think
you have too.
Like
teenagers in the dark, so close but afraid to touch each other. And the sound
of their hearts pounding in their ears, cold hands and an extra helping of
nerves.
That
infinite feeling of almost. Of maybe.
Like,
maybe you didn't call because you hated yourself for the depths you dragged me
down to. For giving an angel the opportunity to fall. And you never meant for
it to go that far, paving the road to Hell with your wish-they-were good
intentions.
Like,
maybe I hated you for pulling me into your tempting, twisted underworld, where
the demons look like saviors and every decision is made on the edge of a cliff.
A
place where lines of white powder and crystal clear pills promise we’ll love
like we mean it, and be loved like the sun loves the moon.
But
promises are made to be broken, aren't they?
There
you are, with your eyes shining in the sun.
The
substance abuse pied piper, and I follow every time with a smile and faith that
I won’t be led astray.
But
you lead me to another circle of hell. I am a modern day, naive, love struck
Dante, and the moment I see you, I know.
I
know what tonight will bring and I know the tidal wave of regret and self-hatred
that comes with the dawn of tomorrow.
Each
black thought taking root in my chest, shooting up in a matter of seconds,
blocking out the sun. And when the leaves fall they say things like,
Why
can’t you say no?
And
This
can’t be who you've become.
And
I shiver in the coldness of my own soul, because I know that they’re right.
Pull
out your credit card and ruin my life with two perfectly straight white lines,
And
I wonder how something the color of faith and love and everything good in the
world,
Could
break me into so many pieces.
Most
of which you keep in your pocket.
Broken
trophies of your successful attempts to kill innocence in whatever way you can.
Look
at me and smile like you love me.
Like
I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and I’ll stare at your lips like
Eve did the apple in the Garden of Eden,
Saying,
Surely
it can’t hurt.
Because
I swear, you could be the Devil himself,
But
with that smile I would sell my soul faster than you could say,
I’m
not worth it.
In
the silence as you hand me the rolled up bill,
The
hospital waiting room silence,
The
right before the Titanic hit an iceberg silence,
The
hush, baby, I didn't mean it silence,
I
could almost feel your hands on my shoulders,
Ready
to rip from my back the wings that no one notices but you.
But
I don’t make a move to stop you.
Because,
honestly?
The
pain is the best fucking part.
